Black mamba
by Jos
Summary: Black Mamba finds the Alin Kuei after fleeing from his tormentors.


Garbed in a hastily-donned outfit of tear-aways and a wife-beater, Mbutu ran full tilt through the swamp, tossing trees out of his way, leaping over quicksand and dodging 'gators. Breathing heavily, he rushed forward, desperate to keep himself ahead of his pursuers. From behind him, the crack of automatic gunfire sounded as at least a dozen people opened fire with M-16s on rock 'n' roll. Bullets whizzed past him and all around him, tearing into the foliage and shredding trees, bursting their trunks apart like overripe fruit. The sheer density of the fire laid down uprooted or simply destroyed many trees, sending debris flying in all directions.  
  
And then the minigun opened up.  
  
Spewing hundreds of rounds per second, the massive gun, usely reserved for helicopters, opened fire with a stream of bullets that was powerful enough to, by itself, destroy trees and shatter rocks and to generally cause an awesome amount of damage. Mbutu hurried up, leaping over logs and launching himself out over a bog, grabbing onto a thick tree branch and swinging himself up into the trees. From there, he began to swing Tarzan-style through the thick bush, leaping from one tree to another, and running along the ground when the trees were too small or too far apart for that mode of transportation to work. The sound of men's voices, yelling and cursing and directing, came through to Mbutu's over-sensitive ears as he ran faster and faster, approaching the peak of human physical capacity, and then passing it like a Concord jet passing a tricycle. His enhanced body carried him faster, and faster, and faster still, legs and arms pumping wildly as he practically flew across the terrain before him, still limited by the trees. He cleared more logs, more ponds, more bogs, more alligators, more rough terrain, passing it all much faster than his pursuers could have ever imagined as possible, and finally breaking out into the open, to the flatlands that outlined the swamp. There, he pressed himself harder, accelerating to impossible speeds. 30 miles per hour, 40, 50, 60. 65 miles per hour, the speed of the fastest land animal, the cheetah. He raced away from those that would take him back to that awful place, that place of needles and vials, of pain and horror.  
  
His pursuers eventually gave up, outclassed and outrun. A few potshots were being taken at Mbutu's rapidly diminished form, but none of them even came close to hitting him. As he sped away, Mbutu looked over his shoulder and saw his tormentors, halt their pursuit. Miles away, he slowed himself down, gradually reducing his speed and then halting abruptly when he fell to regular human speed levels.   
  
He'd done it. He'd escaped! Mbutu tipped over at the hip, bending his knees somewhat, and breathed hard, sucking air into his lungs in large volumes. He stood there for several minutes, waiting for his body to recover from the impossible physical feat that he had just accomplished. Accomplished with their help, he thought bitterly. But that was all over now, he wasn't there guinea pig anymore, he was a free man. Now all he had to do was find someplace far, far away, someplace where they would never find him. To that end, he knew he would have to find some friends, and very quickly. But how? He was in the middle of the bayou, with nothing but his clothing and his body, and no real idea of where civilization was in relation to his current position.   
  
"Need a hand?"  
  
The strong male voice totally surprised him, and Mbutu leapt four feet straight up, turning around to view the amused visage of an old friend, clothed in the traditional garb of the ninja clan that he had once belonged to, the armor plates and belt tinted blue. He wore no mask, and bore a vicious scar over his right eye, a death mark. The air around him was chilled, frosting the grass at his feet lightly.   
  
"How are you, Sub-Zero?"  
  
"Well enough, Mbutu. So you finally did it, you escaped?"  
  
"They've chased me from the Rockies all the way here, but if I can get out of the country soon, they won't be able to do anything else. At least for a while."  
"Out of the country won't work, Mbutu. You need to get out of this Realm?"  
"What the hell are you talking about? Realm? Where am I gonna go, to the Moon?"  
  
Sub-Zero sighed, rolling his eyes slightly and slumping a bit.  
  
"Walk with me, Mbutu."  
  
As he spoke, Sub-Zero turned and started walking in the direction that Mbutu had been going prior to his arrival. He walked on for several minutes without talking, leading Mbutu further into the plains. They walked along silently until, as they approached the edge of a hill, Mbutu spotted something on the horizon. While they walked, Mbutu made a quiet mental note that Sub-Zero was carrying something in a large duffel bag on his back.  
  
"Hey, that's the ocean!"  
"Yes, it is. And the key to the knowledge you seek. You asked me about Realms. You do not know? There are many realms, and this one is but one of those many. This here," Sub-Zero waved at a vague area on the coastline, "This is a portal into another realm, the realm of Del'Maria. Of course, you need a key to access it, some type of trigger device, or a latent ability to channel eldritch energy. I don't suppose you have that, do you?"  
  
Mbutu's thick eyebrows narrowed perceptibly. "I don't know, why don't you ask the 'boys?' They'd probably be able to tell us all sorts of useful stuff."  
  
Sub-Zero smiled. "True enough. At any rate, if you don't know now, it won't help you now." He reached into his pocket and produced a small crystal sphere that was filled in the center with a crimson liquid that was translucent. "This is such a device, one of the keys that I spoke of. Basically, you just walk out into the ocean until this thing does its job."  
  
"What do I do when I get to this Del'Maria?"  
  
"Tell them you know Sub-Zero, and they'll take care of you."  
  
"Who's 'they?'" Sub-Zero grinned again, the smile spreading across his face slowly.   
  
"You'll know when you meet them. Trust me." He handed the crystal sphere to Mbutu, then reached around to the duffel bag and tossed it to Mbutu. "What's this?" the confused recipient asked.  
  
"It's your gear, Mbutu."  
  
"My ge- You mean my ninja gear, don't you. I told you before, I don't want to go back to that."  
  
"Trust me when I say you'll find it useful. Just put the suit on, please."  
  
"Why? I'm not going to be their toy assassin!"  
  
"You don't have to be. Use what they gave you to better yourself. Your identity will serve you well in Del'Maria, I know it. Mine has served me well enough. This name alone is enough to make most people think twice before bothering me. It will be the same with you, in time. Who do you think people will be more afraid to tick off? Mbutu Mukamba, nobody extraordinaire, or Black Mamba, deadly ninja? Think about it."  
  
"I'll think about it, but I'm not putting that on now, I can't." Mbutu reached for the bag, grabbing it by the handle straps, and tossing it over his shoulder. He heard the contents shift inside, guessing as to what they were: Armor plates, mask, suit, gloves, his equipment. It was very heavy, the bag, weighing at least 60 pounds.   
  
"You should go now," Sub-Zero said. "As much as you think they've given up, I saw the choppers loading up. They'll be following you soon. But they'll never find you in Del'Maria."  
  
"This is almost too much to handle, you know that, right? M y head feels like it's going to just snap on me."  
  
"Give it time, you'll get used to it. Use some of those breathing techniques they forced into your brain. They really do help. Now go. I'll see you on the other side some time, ok?"  
  
"Alright, later man."  
  
The two friends clasped hands, then broke away, each heading their seperate way. Sub-Zero vanished into the horizon as only a ninja can, and Mbutu walked forward to the coastline, his bare feet slapping against the sand, squelching the silky stuff into the cracks between his toes. It was a very comfortable feeling. In his left hand, he held the orb, in his right, the handles for the duffel bag.  
  
"Here goes nothing..." he muttered to himself as he waded out into the surf. He waded out all the way up to his waist before anything happened.  
  
"This is stupid, there's no way that this stupid orb is going to do anything. Here I am, making an ass of myself and wasting time, TALKING to myself, even..." And as he spoke, the world went dark for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon, it was filled with a kaleidescope of scintillating colors, flashing past his eyes, whorling and bending and warping, his vision totally skewed. Perspective radically altered. Up, down, left, right, they had no meaning as everything around him changed. Then, with an azure flash, it was all over. He blacked out.   
  
* * *  
  
  
Some time later (Minutes? Hours? Days?), he came to, rolling over (he'd fallen down?) to see a very blue sky above him, and a beach that was very different from where he'd been when he last remembered. He lay there, in the sand, the water washing uip to his lower abdomen, the duffel bag floating nearby, just inches from his outstretched right hand. Still and quiet for the moment, Mbutu let the water play across his body, content for the moment to luxuriate in this peaceful place. Time passed at a languid pace, and Mbutu remained there in the water, letting it lap at his body as he oriented himself. He was someplace tropical, and it must have been 40 degrees out, Celsius. He knew intellectually that he should be sweating like a pig, and overheating, but neither was true of his current situation, which intrigued him.   
  
The cool water played across his body, refreshing him and awakening in him senses he was not previously aware of. He could literally feel where the fish nearby were, sensing their exact location and distance via the vibrations they caused in the water. It was a strange sensation. Refreshed and energized, he stood up, duffel bag in hand, slung over his right shoulder.  
  
He was on an island somewhere, that much he could tell. A tropical one, at that, and the weather was very nice. He literally couldn't see a single cloud anywhere in the sky. Standing there for a moment, the blazing sun beating down on his body, Mbutu stared up into the azure horizon, eyes tracking across the empty sky and wondering at the sight of it. It had been so long since he'd been able to look at the sky and just enjoy it, so long since he had had the time to do something like that, or the permission. This freedom situation was remarkable. He strolled along the beach, his feet slapping against the sand by the water, comfortingly cool next to the scortching, humid air that somehow wasn't as bad as what Mbutu was expecting. Tolerable. Enjoyable, even, he thought after a while. A broad smile cut across his face, widening into a grin as he started actively enjoying the oppressive heat and moisture in the air.   
  
The magic of the moment was abruptly stolen from him as several other humans walked over a sandy hill, coming into view. They were wearing some kind of loose black pants that flowed around their ankles, no shirts, socks or shoes, and they wore a full face-wrap that covered everything from their necks to the tops of their heads, with the exception of their eyes. The wrap was also of the same black material, perhaps silk. On their bodies were tatoos of stylized scorpions, done in black in and varying in size. There were six of them, in total, and they were walking his way. One of them was taller than the others by a head, though still more than half a foot shorter than Mbutu. He had one large scorpion on his chest, and large markings on his legs, arms and neck. Bald, he wore naught but some type of safrong made of black silk, which swirled around his thighs.  
  
Mbutu decided that perhaps he would be lucky today, and that if he continued on his way quietly, walking as if they didn't notice him, then they wouldn't. But the ostrich's strategy never really did work, so he did prepare himself for what was to come.   
  
"You are trespassing on Black Scorpion territory!" the tallest of them yelled at him, in Cantonese.  
  
Mbutu's eyes narrowed. He'd heard of the Black Scorpions, recently, before he'd left Earth. They were supposed to be based in China though, not in another Realm. 'Stupid Sub-Zero, he sent me right into the heart of a clan's territory. Now what do I do?'  
  
"Oh?" That was the response he'd decided on, witty as it was. He arched his left eyebrow at the lead man, and cocked his head to the right. "I'm sorry, I thought you were based in China, not... here." Mbutu found himself speaking fluently and smoothly in Cantonese, a language he'd never even taken the time to learn how to recognize, nevermind understand. It was perplexing, to say the least, but he didn't have the time to worry about, so he just let it flow as he spoke to the clan members.  
  
"Too bad for you that you are here. Now we have to kill you."  
  
The innocent and apologetic facade that Mbutu's face had adopted vanished, immediately replaced by an intimidating scowl.  
  
"I seriously doubt you will be able to do that."  
  
No more words were spoken, no more preamble exchanged. Five of the Black Scorpions charged at him in a loose wedge formation. As the first reached him, he turned to the side and stuck out his right arm, clotheslining him and crushing his throat in with his newfound strength. The man's body crumpled, spraying blood from his mouth and collapsing onto the ground with a loud, meaty thud. Mbutu spun into the next man, ramming his fist into the man's chest and crushing it with one blow. A surprised look was permanently etched on the dead man's face as he fell back to the ground. Mbutu, surprised at his own strength, spun away from the crumpled man... and right into the oncoming fists of the third man. He took several solid hits to the face and ribs before he was able to start blocking them. Taking the man's right wrist in his hand, he crushed it and twisted it around. The clan member screamed as the bones in his wrist turned to powder, and as his arm was wrenched forcibly out of its socket, and grated around. A swift chop to the back of the beck, accompanied by a dull and unexpected *CRACK* sent him slamming into the ground where he lay completely motionless, without even the movement associated with breathing.   
  
Turning, he faced the other two. The one on his left feinted and the one on the right launched a crescent kick, which Mbutu promptly stepped away from, grabbing the leg and twisting it with bruising force. The black-clad man went down hard, and Mbutu stepped on his groin, heel-first. Squealing, the other man had no chance to block the swift kick to the chin that Mbutu delivered, rendering his opponent unconscious. A deft placement of his left forearm blocked the attack coming from the fifth man, and then Mbutu spun inside the attack and backhanded the man in the nose, which dropped him to the ground unconscious.   
  
He turned his head and looked at the sixth man: The entire exchange had lasted seconds, and three of the five that had attacked him were dead. The man was clapping.  
  
"Very good, Mbutu. Everything I expected from the progeny of your country's greatest experiment. But now it is time for you to join me: We have a glorious task to complete, my friend, noble deeds to complete." His smile was broad and toothy, like a wolf's grin.  
  
Mbutu was very put-off by the fact that the man knew him, and even moreso that he knew where he came from.  
  
"Who are you? How do you know me? What cause are you talking about?"  
  
"Why, the elimination of the remnants of the Lin Kuei, of course! And of my most evil sister, Knightshade. As to who I am, I am called Shade by my subordinates in the Black Scorpion clan. And I know you from all of your 'work' in Blackhawk. They killed several of my men recently, so I've been following them, and digging up all sorts of interesting records."  
  
"Why do you want to destroy the remnants of an ancient Chinese ninja clan?"  
  
Shade smiled at him, shaking his head slightly.   
  
"There will be time for all of that later."  
  
Something was wrong. Mbutu could sense it, in several different ways. He could see something in the man's eyes, in his body language. He could feel something almost intangible, a sort of prickly feeling at the base of his neck. His hearing was picking something up, what was it? The men, the men behind him! Not totally knocked out, they had recovered and were now jumping on top of him.  
  
The first man, who'd been gas-pedalled, leapt at Mbutu in a flying tackle that hit him in the waist. At the same time, the second man tackled his legs, and the three of them went down in a rolling heap. Twisting and arching, Mbutu placed his elbow atop one of the men's backs, and slammed down hard. There was a sharp crack and a scream of pain as he broke several vertebrae. The man went slack immediately and rolled away from Mbutu. The other man he simply kicked away, rolling himself into a position from which he could, and did, leap to his feet.   
  
His opponent rolled to a stop and rose shakily, looking at him, then, without warning, raised his hand from his side and flung a knife at him. Mbutu's razor-sharp instincts helped him catch it and hurl it back at his enemy, striking him in the left eye. The man went down quietly, bleeding out of his eye socket, falling knees-to-chest into the dirt. Shade clapped again.   
  
"Very good, Mr. Mukamba, very good! You are exactly what I am looking for!"  
  
"But you've attacked me! How can you think I will even CONSIDER helping one such as you?"  
  
Mamba turned away in disgust, and started walking in the opposite direction. Shade glided over towards him, moving with fluid grace. His voice was rigid like steel, carrying a menacing tone.  
  
"You will be mine, Mbutu, one way or another." His face lightened and he smiled, rapidly changing his presence from a threat to a friendly one. "But that is for another day, yes? I will let you see what you will see on this island, and then you will understand what it is I need done."  
  
And then he was gone. Mbutu saw him, receding into the horizon, moving at speeds he wouldn't have believed possible for a human but for the display he put on before arriving here... wherever here was. Confused, a little frightened, and thoroughly lost, Mbutu picked a direction and started walking, hoping that he might eventually fine some sane individuals to ask some questions.   
  
****  
  
From the nearby shadows, another watched with interest, his blue eyes steeled in case he had to make the distasteful choice he was considering: Kill the invader. An unknown, a wildcard... a threat to the security of his clan and family. The man was garbed in his traditional garb of black and blue, armor plating his forearms, shins, torso and face. A black nightsuit, with the faintest hint of red that suggested blood, stretched across his lithe frame beneath the armor, covering everything except his hands and face, the blue metal glinting in the light. The newcomer was definitely a potent threat, even as undisciplined as he appeared to be, a dangerous new element introduced into the picture. What new trouble and problems could and would he cause? Why was he here? Who was he with? Questions fired through the shadowed observer's mind at a rapid-fire pace.   
  
****  
  
Mbutu narrowed his eyes as he watched Shade disappear at the same sort of impossible speeds he had recently evidenced. What was going on? What had they done to him? What the hell was happening? So many questions, and his mind was swooning, fogging. He had just escaped from... where? He knew they'd done things to him, horrible things, things like... what? What was happening to his head, why couldn't he remember? -- What was that? Mbutu's nose twitched. He squatted low to the ground, nose upturned, sniffing the air. Something was happening again, something new. He could smell something, something human. He could smell sweat and the faintest hint of soap... and blood. Not flowing blood out in the open, but he could smell the blood inside the person. He swept his eyes across the horizon, scanning all the places where someone could reasonably hide, (How did he know to do that? How did he know what they were?) eyes flashing a luminescent turqoise he could not see. For the second time in the day, he was floored by a totally foreign sensation: not seeing in thenormally accepted visual spectrum! His eyes picked up on wavelengths that couldn't be possible, scanning for heat signatures, ultraviolet rays, x-rays letting him see through trees and bushes... His mind processed impossible amounts of information that he couldn't believe he was even receiving, and he saw him: A man, crouching low inside of a bush, hidden, still, watching. He locked eyes with the man, who didn't move.  
  
****  
  
Quinn stayed as still as he knew how, which was next to motionless, but for a slow, shallow breathing pattern not visible to most people. Those eyes, they seemed to lock on him, but that was impossible. No one could see through this thick brush, where there was no motion, at that distance. He remained still, confident that the invader couldn't detect him. A thought crossed his mind: 'What if he's a telepath?'  
  
****  
  
Mbutu stared long and hard at the man, and as he did, his senses did something odd, they seemed to almost, stretch was the best word for it. He was suddenly aware of things that should have been impossible to perceive. He could hear the grass rustling, but from a different angle than where he stood. He saw.. himself! His senses distorted and warped as he felt a... presence? Thrust him away with brutal efficiency, launching him in a sensory tailspin. Shaking his head, he stared at the man again... he smelled surprised, even offended. There was no more time for subtlety, he didn't even know how to begin, so he did what he thought was best. Standing tall, stretching to his full height of six feet and eight inches, muscles rippling sleekly as he moved, Mbutu walked over to the hidden man, seeming to glide across the ground at a pace faster than walking, almost at a run, but appearing to simply walk through the space. The hidden man leapt to his feet, assuming what Mbutu suddenly knew was a combat posture (How did that knowledge come to him? And from where?) Mbutu slowed his pace, reverting to a walk more acceptable to a person of his size... and to a human. The man didn't change his posture, and if anything, he seemed to grow more menacing.  
  
Time for a different tactic. Slowly raising his hands and placing his palms out, he stopped where he was. Even this small motion drew a reaction from the tense man in front of him, as he shifted positions and a sword appeared almost as if from thin air. Of course, to Mbutu's perception, it came out rather slowly. (Why was that? Had time slowed? Was that possible?!?)   
  
"I'm Mbutu. I mean you no harm, don't worry." Maybe that would be a good icebreaker... it always worked in the movies (What movies?)  
  
"Yeah, right. You just iced five Black Scorpions, and gave Shade a run for his money, and I don't have anything to worry about. You keep telling yourself that. What are you doing on my island?"  
  
"Your island? I was told that this was a free place by the man that sent me."  
  
"And that was?"  
  
"You know a guy named Sub-Zero? Tall, white, big scar over his right eye?"  
  
The man paused, considering what he was being told, and perhaps doing something. His brow furrowed, ever so slightly, his eyes picking up seriously in intensity. Mbutu became aware of a presence, digging around at the edge of his perception, a sort of mental itch. It grew worse and worse, and he started concentrating on getting rid of the itch. It didn't work too well: The itch intensified, and he had a general feeling of unease before it all faded, abruptly.   
  
"I see. He sent you here."  
  
Mbutu scowled, an imposing image, really, from a person that size. "Stay outta my head, man. Yes, he sent me here, to get away from something back in the world. You what he sent me for?"  
  
Vertigo pondered this for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, looks like. So you're here for us, aren't you?" He kept the question vague, sensing what the answer would be.   
  
Mbutu looked at the man before him: He stood six feet in height, more than half a foot shorter than he, but he looked to weigh more, around 220 pounds. Mbutu was ten pounds lighter, but carried a lot more physical power.. Blackhawk certainly took care of THAT, if anything. He was certainly impressive, and tensed to fight: That he could sense even through the man's rigid training and telepathic powers, for he didn't need to use psionic talent for that. The man's muscles were taught, he was still striking an aggressive pose, and he had unconsciously puffed his chest out just a little more than usual. If he wasn't careful, he'd spark him off, which seemed to be a bad idea.   
  
"Yes, I am seeking the Alin Kuei.. if that's who you are hinting at. I am looking for a place to hide from those that would kill me for what they turned me into, and a place to live my life in relative peace. Can you offer that?"  
  
Vertigo's eyes swept up and down the man, mind probing but being rejected this time, as he did a fast analysis of this man that stood before him, this Mbutu. He decicded to go with his gut instinct, and stuck his hand out. "My name's Quinn." "Nice to meet you, Quinn." Mbutu grasped the smaller man's hand, enveloping it with his huge paws, and shaking it firmly.  
  
"Let's get you back to the castle, and we'll talk some more."  
  
  
And history was made... 


End file.
